A Reason To Live?
by Todd's Pet
Summary: An un-named wraith demands an un-named human female give him a reason to let her live... she rises to the challenge! Started out as an erotic short but developed into something much deeper with 3 more chapters
1. Chapter 1

A Reason To Live?

He strides impatiently into his quarters where she'd been told to wait for him. She knows what she is expected to do, but isn't really sure how to go about it; he certainly doesn't seem to be in the mood if his snarling expression is anything to go on. She just stands there, hesitant, wondering if she should make the first move or wait for him.

Suddenly he makes the decision for her when he leans in close to her and growls in her face, "Give me a reason to let you live, human."

She takes a deep breath and decides it's now or never.

She takes his belt off and tosses it on the bench, then slowly unfastens the front of his coat. Sliding her hands inside it she places her palms flat on his chest, feeling the warmth of him under her hands. Moving them across his chest, up and over his shoulders, she shrugs the coat off him, running her hands down the length of the bare skin of his arms as she does so.

She turns to carefully lay his coat over the bench and he watches how she moves, her honey blonde hair swaying like wheat as she does. She turns back to him and pushes on his shoulders to make him sit, then kneels in front of him, sitting back on her heels so that she can look up at him briefly. She bends over his feet and eases his boots off, one at a time, then takes his feet in her hands and starts to massage them, her soft hands cool and refreshing on his tired feet. She strokes and kneads away the aching tension, leaning over his feet, deep in concentration, and her hair brushes across his ankles several times.

He puts his hands on her upper arms and draws her back up to her knees in front of him, between his legs. She steadies herself by placing a hand on each of his thighs either side of her and he is intensely aware of the heat of them there. He looks deep into her eyes and says starkly, "Kiss me."

Far from the fear he had expected to see, a tiny spark ignites in her slate grey eyes and she stretches her face up to his. Her lips are soft and gentle but not hesitant, and she doesn't just kiss him, she explores him.

He slides his hand around to the nape of her neck, touching the fine hair there and draws her tightly towards his own body. He delights in her response to him as their kiss deepens and lasts far longer than he had anticipated. She nips his bottom lip with her small, flat teeth and snakes her arms up and around his neck, lazily stroking her fingers through his long hair. He nips back with his sharp, pointed teeth and he's surprised to see her smile, making a tiny bead of blood swell on her lip.

Suddenly, she slides her hands down the length of his back and, grasping the hem of his t-shirt, she pulls it up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor.

Her kisses grow more urgent and, sensing the desire in them, he is surprised to realize that she is actually willing.

Rising from the bench he lunges forward, pushing her onto her back on the floor as he goes. He supports himself with his arms as he leans over her, his soft hair falling into her face. She does nothing to brush his hair away, merely pushing her hands through it to reach his face and pull him down to her to kiss him again. As he lowers himself onto her he feels the stirrings of something he has not felt in a very long time.

She feels oddly thrilled, as if the fact that she is making love to this wraith in order to save her own life has added another dimension to the act. The danger makes her heart race and adds to her own excitement and she knows that he can sense it but she cannot help herself.

What he senses not only excites him but it makes him curious; this human is not afraid. Even though he knows she is aware of the danger, she is not trembling and clumsy from fear like the other human females he has been with. Somehow the danger seems to be fuelling her desire and he finds that strangely intoxicating.

Even after he lies spent on the floor, she continues to caress him, stroking her long glossy black fingernails – they fascinate him! – down the length of his chest and stomach, trailing off before she reaches the place he really wants her to touch. It's driving him crazy, yet he doesn't want her to stop.

He lifts himself up onto his side, leaning on one elbow. As he raises his right hand to stroke her she takes hold of it – surely she's not afraid now, he thinks.

But no, she is not trying to hold off his feeding hand; instead she is holding it quite tenderly, intently studying the feeding organ in his palm.

He half smiles, amused by her blatant curiosity, but he is not prepared for what she does next. She dips her head down and softly kisses the palm of his feeding hand. The tingle as she does so, and the fact that it was so unexpected, makes him draw a deep breath. He can feel her lips against his palm forming a smile as she keeps kissing, realizing the effect it is having on him.

Not stopping what she's doing she looks up at him and what she sees in his face makes her grey eyes glint like shards of mica. He sees the mischief sparkle in her eyes at the same time as he sees her small pink tongue dip into his palm and the resultant sensation is like a flash of electricity shooting down the entire length of his body.

Her eyes flick briefly toward his groin and she grins, shifting her body to sit astride him, still kissing and licking the palm of his feeding hand. The sensations almost overwhelm him and he gives himself up to them entirely, allowing her to control the pace.

He is impressed with her skill in balancing her ministrations to both his groin and his hand, constantly watching him and responding to his reactions, holding him on the precipice for so long he fears he'll explode. But as soon as she has satisfied herself she increases the pace dramatically and, with what looks like complete abandon, she builds him up to an almost unbearable tension.

Suddenly his climax crashes through him, released so unexpectedly and completely that it makes his head spin and, uninhibited, he growls long and loud, almost a roar.

She lets herself flop down by his side, wraps her arms around him and pulls him close to her. He lays his head on her breasts as she croons softly to him, stroking his hair and waiting for his growls to subside.

When they soften to almost a purr, she whispers into his hair, "Do I live to see another day, then?"

He smiles at the edge of defiance in her voice and lifts his head to look at her. He nuzzles her neck and snarls softly in her ear, "I think you may live to see many more days, human."


	2. Chapter 2

Another Reason To Live

True to his word she has lived for many more days. In fact it has been ninety-three days since that first night they spent together.

The morning after that night she had wakened alone. Disappointed, but not surprised, she had dressed and left, returning to the worshippers' dormitory.

She had reported to the matriarch for her day's duties, only to be told to pack her belongings and report back.

Confused, she had gathered her meagre possessions into the box she had been given and stood waiting to be told her fate.

The matriarch was a kindly woman of far more years than her looks revealed – that fact alone proved her wisdom, for she could not have lived so long on a wraith hive without razor sharp wits, nor would she have been given the gift so often without knowing how to please a wraith.

"The wraith you served last night has requested you," she had said sternly, "Permanently." She had paused just long enough to allow the information to register.

Then the matriarch's face had softened as she took her by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. "Whatever you did last night, keep doing it. But do not get complacent nor allow him to get bored. Be defiant but not insubordinate, obey but do not be weak, challenge but do not antagonise. From now on you walk the knife edge of this wraith's moods."

Advice given, she had smiled at her then and patted her cheek, "One wraith is easier to please than many. You know by now that some of them are capable of kindness. Pray the one who has chosen you is one of them."

oOo

Since then she has lived with this wraith she had apparently pleased so much, lived with him alone in his quarters. She hadn't realised how lonely it would be, the life of a personal worshipper.

As one of the "harem" life had been fraught with danger; a different wraith every night, never knowing if a bad tempered encounter would be your last. But every night she had returned alive to the dormitory, to the comfort of the "sisterhood" that had been their only means to tolerate the life they must endure.

It hadn't been so bad, really. She had had her share of bad experiences, nights when she returned to her fellow worshippers in tears, covered in bites, scratches and bruises. But they all knew the cruelty wraith were capable of; her sisters had calmed her nerves and soothed her skin and fed her herbal tea to ensure a dreamless sleep free of nightmare replays of what she had just endured.

But she had also had her fair share of pleasant experiences – usually with wraith who were new to it all; uncertainty of how fragile human females are made them almost courteous – but sometimes simply because the luck of the draw had sent her to one of those wraith who were genuinely kind natured.

They did exist, kind wraith. Albeit they were not exactly commonplace – and she had rapidly discovered that, as with humans, looks could be deceptive.

She fondly remembered a huge dreadlocked wraith who had frightened her half to death when she first saw him. But he had been as gentle and playful as a kitten and endlessly patient with her early inexperience. He had made her laugh – and even given her chocolate!

oOo

She is learning that this wraith she belongs to now falls somewhere in between. Even in his looks he is neither dreadlocked nor smooth haired; his face somewhere between refined and scary. Most days he speaks to her kindly, involves her in his day-to-day activities, shares his thoughts with her and even allows her a little time to herself each evening when her chores are done.

But there are other days when he is sullen and bad tempered and she knows she has to stay out of his way, or if that is not possible, tip-toe around him as if she were walking on egg shells.

That would be easy to deal with if she were returning to her friends every night as she had been used to before. But day after day now she barely even sees another human, let alone speaks to one. When she thinks about her previous life she realises she's lonely.

oOo

Tonight her wraith is in a good mood, but she is not. Usually when he is talkative she takes advantage of the opportunity for companionable conversation and they often talk well into the night.

He tells her about his day as she eats her evening meal, but tonight she is uncharacteristically silent. Instead of having to tell her to stop talking and eat her food while it is still hot, as he usually does, the wraith is wondering why she is so quiet.

"Tell me what is wrong," he says forthrightly.

She looks up at him suddenly and blushes. "Nothing is wrong," she says in a rush.

He rolls his eyes impatiently. "Do not deny something so plainly obvious," he says, almost growling. But then he softens his voice and speaks more kindly to her, "If I ask what is wrong it is because I wish to put it right, if I can. Do not be afraid to tell me – whatever it is."

She takes a deep breath and says, "I'm lonely..." She searches his eyes and is surprised to see nothing but understanding there, so she goes on, "I'm here most of the day on my own and hardly speak to another living soul apart from you." He tilts his head and she adds quickly, "I enjoy our conversations, really I do, but... well, I had friends... I haven't seen them in weeks... and I used to paint, I haven't done that in weeks either..."

She trails off and looks at him uncertainly through her eyelashes; he looks deep in thought and she waits patiently for him to reply.

"I allow you time to yourself every evening after your work is done," he says, almost as if he were talking to himself.

"I... I never thought to..." she ventures, "I didn't know I could go without your permission... and I have no paints or paper..."

Suddenly the wraith smiles broadly and warmly, "Well this is a wrong that is easily righted," he beams. "You have my permission to go and see your friends during your free time and you will have paints and paper by tomorrow!"

He stands up and looks back down at her where she sits and his expression changes subtly to one she now knows very well.

But tonight she doesn't mind and she gets up and follows him through to his sleep chamber, quite content to perform her final duty of the day for this wraith who is capable of making her almost feel as if he actually cares about her.


	3. Chapter 3

The Only Reason To Live

He pulls his feeding hand away from her kisses as if she was irritating him. Sitting astride him as he lies on his back in their bed, she remembers what the matriarch had told her about not letting him get bored. Alarmed, she asks him, "What's wrong? This doesn't please you anymore?"

He turns his head away from her impatiently, "Do not concern yourself," he says, "You please me well enough, but do not do that any more."

"But why?"

He does not answer for what feels like a long time. He turns to look at her again and says, "You will not rest until I tell you, will you?" She sits where she is and merely smiles at him. "Very well," he sighs.

He sits up and she wriggles in his lap so she can sit astride him more comfortably in the different position. He rests his arms around her hips, crossing them at his wrists behind her back. She can feel the heat of his feeding palm as it hangs, perfectly relaxed, a mere inch or two from the small of her back. She is suddenly conscious of how comfortably intimate it feels, talking with him like this.

oOo

He looks directly into her eyes and gets straight to the point, "It pleases me too much," he says. Seeing her puzzled expression he goes on to explain, "Oh, don't get me wrong, it feels wonderful at the time and you were very clever to discover it. But later, when you're asleep…"

The usual glint in his eye changes from a warm sparkle to a hard glitter, like yellow diamonds, showing her that this is difficult for him to talk about.

"It aches… it leaves me with a deep need to feed," he says at last. "I sit over there and I watch you sleep and I nurse the ache. I spend the night battling with myself because I so desperately want to feed on you, but I know I only feel that way because you have tried to please me – and I have no wish to harm you. I only want to…"

He looks away from her and she has a sudden rush of feeling for this wraith, an inexplicable need to be close to him.

He sighs, "I feel a strange desire to be close to you," he says surprising her with his echo of her own thoughts.

oOo

"There is a way…"

"A way you can feed on me without actually harming me?"

"You have heard of this?"

She feels a pang of fear creeping into her mind, making her stomach clench. "Some of the worshippers charmingly refer to it as 'suck'n'puke'," she says. His nose crumples in an expression of distaste. "I know," she agrees, trying to smile but failing. "I'm… I never liked the idea much…. I suppose I'm afraid of it…"

"You have never done it before?"

"Once," she admits, "The wraith I was with insisted, but I think he was disappointed. He kept telling me to stop fighting back."

The warmth comes back into his eyes and he tells her, "It can be just as pleasurable for the human as for the wraith – a way of being close to each other – but only if you relax and accept it."

He gently kisses her forehead. "That is hard to do for someone like you with such a strong will to live. You would have to let me take you to the very brink of death before I bring you back. You cannot do that without a very great deal of trust. It is not something for a casual relationship."

She blushes and steadies herself by putting her hands on his chest. He unfolds his arms from behind her and gently puts his hands over hers, holding them to his chest with his.

"You must know that ours is not a casual relationship?" He dips his head to look at her eyes, taking one hand away from hers and lifting her chin with a clawed finger to make her look into his eyes. "Let me do this thing and you will know the truth of it."

Confusion creates a film of tears in her eyes, making them glisten. She feels both fear and love with him, but after several long minutes, she whispers, "I trust you…"

oOo

He lays his feeding hand onto her chest and she tenses, her entire body rigid, and squeezes her eyes shut.

"No, this way you will only feel pain," he tells her gently, "You must relax. Open your eyes and look at me; see the truth in my eyes, see that I will not harm you."

She forces herself to open her eyes and realises that he is not speaking; she's hearing his voice inside her own head, soft but firm, making her feel calmer. Relax, he tells her, this will only be good for you too if you relax…

She holds his steady gaze and once more sees nothing but kindness there. She tries to relax. She does trust him… doesn't she? She takes a deep sighing breath and deliberately lets herself go limp in his arms.

Suddenly her head explodes with a kaleidoscope of colours and his voice fills her mind like a million sighs… trust me… relax… trust me…

oOo

As soon as she fully relaxes his eyes melt into molten gold and she starts to fall into them. Not the rhetoric of romantic novels; she really does fall into him through his eyes. She feels herself melt, almost liquidizing, as she pours uncontrollably into his very being, flowing – no, rushing like an uncontained flash flood – filling him up until she oozes from every pore in his body. She is on him, in him, all around him, until… until she can touch his soul.

Abruptly the sensation stops and she feels nothing, nothing at all. But it is not a nothing that is a lack of something, but a nothing that is full to the brim with contentment; a blissful non-existence that makes her feel entirely at one with the universe.

She is held in this limbo for a mere spilt second that spins out for an eternity in a place where time is meaningless.

Just as abruptly everything goes into reverse. She can feel him rushing into her like waves crashing onto a shore, swelling and flowing into every fibre of her being until every cell of her body is full of him, her senses overflowing with the smell and the taste of him, bathed in the pure essence of him until… until he touches her soul.

oOo

For one fleeting moment they are one, melded together through the palm of his hand so completely, so utterly, that she knows she will never again be able to exist without him. They are two souls occupying the same space, immortal and beyond death, forever as one until the end of time itself.


	4. Chapter 4

No More Reason To Live

They have done it many times since then. Always as a means to bring themselves closer to each other again when mundane day-to-day living has let them drift apart.

In the years they've been together now they both often find new ways to please each other – and not always in bed at night.

He has an entire trunk of her paintings; not only of him, for she never tires of studying his face and finding new ways to render it, but also of all the places he has taken her, new and wonderful planets with things even her wild imagination could never have dreamt of.

She has several books of his writings; poetry and prose that he feels driven to compose about her, a way to express and reconcile his ever deepening feelings for this human he now feels he cannot live without.

Many times he has come back to their quarters with a surprise gift for her, only to find that she has one for him too.

Some nights he will sit and brush her hair for hours while they talk, or she will rub his feet until the tension of his day has melted away. Other nights he will knead her neck and shoulders until the exhaustion of her day's chores dissolves, or she will sing for him simply because the sound of her voice soothes away the stresses of his day.

But always they eventually come back to this special thing between a wraith and a human; this thing that brings them close in a way that nothing else can; this thing that joins their souls and brings a deep peace to everything they do together.

oOo

"Do not ask it of me – do not make this harder for me than it already is!" he tells her firmly.

She hangs her head sadly and he rolls his eyes, impatient with himself for not being more understanding of her. He moves to her side and takes her in his arms, resting his chin on her head as he speaks. "I know, I know," he says softly, "I do not wish to go either... I will miss you too."

"It's not just that," she tilts her head back to look in his eyes, "This mission is so dangerous. I'm so afraid that..." Her voice trails off, too afraid to even voice her fears.

His voice is firm, reassuring, "It is no more dangerous than others I have completed successfully. I will return to you."

She understands wraith pride and her wraith has standing on this hive, a reputation to uphold. She knows there is nothing she can do to stop him leaving. She resigns herself to waiting for him, praying with every ounce of faith she has in her that he will return to her safe and well.

oOo

There is no emotion, let alone sympathy, in the Queen's voice when she coldly tells her that he is missing in action, presumed dead.

"I believe he may have been taken prisoner by the Genii, my Queen," a wraith officer adds.

"That is even worse!" she hisses, "If he is a prisoner of the Genii then he is as good as dead! I will not waste my time on one weak enough to be captured alive."

The Queen turns and snarls at her when she sees her face crumple in grief. "Take this human away from my sight!" she orders, "Empty their quarters and send her back to the worshippers' dormitory. She is still young enough to entertain my officers."

oOo

She cannot remember how she got back to their quarters. She can see nothing through her tears; feel nothing except a deep and all consuming numbness freezing her to her bones.

As soon as the door closes behind her she gives vent to her despair, drops to her knees and howls like a wounded animal. She falls forward, her forehead touching the cold floor, her body racked with her sobs until finally, after many hours, she cries herself to sleep on the floor where she lies.

When she wakes she crawls over to the trunk, drags open the lid and pulls out her paintings of him. She looks at each and every one of them, touching his face and remembering the feel and the smell of him, tracing her fingertip along the starburst tattoo around his left eye.

She has made her decision.

oOo

The next day the matriarch comes to collect her and when the wraith officer opens the door her hand flies to her throat. "What is the meaning of this?" she gasps, "Did you not have her watched?"

"She said she would rather die than belong to any wraith but him," the officer said meekly, "but I did not take it seriously."

The matriarch walks into the room and bends low over the body on the floor, tenderly brushing a stray lock of hair from the girl's cold, pale face.

She lies in a huge pool of her own blood, now thickly clotting around the fierce gashes in her wrists, her limp, dead hands clasping a book of poetry to her still and silent heart.

END


End file.
